


Red wine and hotel rooms

by ExcellentlyEllen



Series: The songs we sing, the lyrics we live by [5]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 15:44:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1433971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExcellentlyEllen/pseuds/ExcellentlyEllen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>chapter 5</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red wine and hotel rooms

**Author's Note:**

> So this story is loosely inspired by a song of P!nk, from her last album (the truth about love). I won’t spoil the fun by telling you which one. How about you guys just read it, and drop your guesses in the comments below.
> 
> The first one to guys to guess right, gets a proverbial cookie of choice in the next chapter! (but I bet you all would pick chocolate-chip )

There are few things in life that are worse than a corporate cocktail-party. Sure, there is being shot (which she has been, and has the scar to prove it). Being kidnapped, also not fun (again, speaking from personal experience). Cocktail-parties are however, a completely different kind of torture.

It’s not just the boring speeches, or the stiff aloof business people all talking about who earned the most money on something or other. It’s not even the looks they give her, for just being there, like her net worth has far too little zeros for her attendance to be appropriate. No, it’s the way he forces her to join him on these stupid things, and then proceeds to ignore her the rest of the evening. Until she’s had enough of it all and just goes home.

Tonight however, going home isn’t really an option, unless she wants to take the red-eye back to Starling. Oh, She just thought of something worse than corporate cocktail-parties. Corporate cocktail-parties not being held in Starling City. Which makes the whole ‘going home ‘ bit infinitely harder to do. Sure, she could go to the hotel room she had, but that seemed to her to be just a little too sad. After all, at home, she had a pint of mint chocolate chip in the freezer, and her hotel didn’t. 

So she stayed. Slightly hopping from one foot to the other, because, why on earth had she chosen these shoes when she knew she’d be standing all night. She decided to get a refill at the bar, because, 2 glasses of wine weren’t going to cut it tonight. After taking a big swig from her glass (needing not to taste the exquisite taste of the Bordeaux, but just the alcohol running through her veins), she put her arm on the bar and sighed deep. And then a voice coming from behind startled her.

She turned around to see a cute guy standing there, hazel eyes moving up and down her body appraisingly. She smiled a dazzling smile at him and thought this night just got a little less torturous.

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She woke to a sunbeam shining in her eyes, and her head pounding like an SOB. The Bordeaux obviously doing better things to her last night than it was this morning. She mentally cursed herself for letting herself get drunk. Well, tipsy. She tried to stretch her arms but stopped when a surge of soreness shot up her body. What the flying hell-monkeys was that about?

As she rubbed her hands over her arms, she tried to think back to last night. Oh my god she thought as the images of the night before flooded her system.  
She glanced to her left, so see a naked man lying beside her, softly snoring. He had his head under the pillow, resting on his left arm, his nose tucked in the crook of his elbow. His right hand lying next to his head, in between his and her pillow.  
Oh god, oh god, oh god! She started hyperventilating a little, but silently, to not wake up her.. companion. She never did this. She wasn’t this kind of girl. She didn’t do one night stands, ever! She just didn’t sleep with guys, at random hotels, in random cities. How could she have let this happen. 

Well, the throbbing in hear head suggested she had the wine do the talking for her, but still. As silently as humanly possible she slid out of bed. Scanning the room for her clothes, she picked them up and hurried to the bathroom. Once in there she let out a loud sigh. She looked in the mirror and almost screamed. She looked like a bird had tried to nest in her hair. And where on earth did that feather come from?

She slid into her dress, silently thanking whoever was listening that she didn’t wear a zipper-dress the other night, because that would have made the humiliation complete. She went through her hair trying to finger-comb out the tangles. Because, this wasn’t her room, and she didn’t have her brush. No, she’d have to walk down to the elevators (like 8 rooms over, if she remembered correctly), wait for it to arrive, ride it down to her floor and make it to her room (thank god only 2 rooms from the elevator). All in her rumpled dress, with her hair a mess and clearly sporting a major hang over. Oh my.

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She’d never imagined having to do this. She’d heard about other people doing this. Friends of her from college who talked about it like it was a rite of passage. Like you weren’t really an adult unless you’d gone through it at least once. Felicity had decided early on she did not want to be an adult if it required you to wake up next to some random dude, and having to slink away in utter silence. It was embarrassing. And awkward. And just plain stupid.

And now, she was doing it herself. She opened the bathroom door, peeking out, to find him still sleeping in the same position as before. She snuck over to the bed, all the while mentally chastising herself for this, and reached for her shoes.  
Holding her shoes in her one hand, her shawl in the other, she slipped into the hallway and practically sprinted down the hall to the elevator doors.   
Please, please don’t have anybody come out. Don’t have anybody in the elevator she silently prayed while punching the button. Like it would make the elevator come just a little faster, if she kept pushing it. Finally the elevator dinged and opened, empty. She hurried in, glancing in the direction of the room she’d just exited, to make sure the door was still firmly closed.

It took an insane amount of time to get down to her floor, but she made it. And made it safe in her room before anybody saw her. She jumped in the shower and took an unusually long time in there. Finally giving herself the chance to revel a little in her memories.

Yes, she’d not liked the fact that she’d been a little tipsy. And she’d not liked the fact that she had to sneak out of the room like she did something wrong. But, the night itself. It had been heaven. The way he had touched her, caressed her, murmured her name… She’d never ever felt like that before, and she would never again. This was a one-off thing, never to be repeated again. She would not walk that way again. But the memory, she’d keep close by. To keep her company on the lonely nights. To warm herself on when she was cold.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The ride home was uncomfortable. She was to lost in her own mind to try and make small talk. She wouldn’t be able to stop babbling anyway, and with how she was feeling, she really didn’t need the added embarrassment of her improper ramblings.  
They went straight to the office, needing to sort a few things out before the weekend really started. She was biting her lip, waiting for her computer to start when she suddenly felt a hand resting on her shoulder. He pressed something soft in her hand, winked at her and said: “You forgot this” before walking into his office and closing the door.  
She looked down to see a very familiar piece of clothing in her hands, and her entire face turned a very bright pink. 

Safe to say, things got a little more heated and a lot more awkward on the executive level.


End file.
